


Two Types of Flu

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Bobby, Gen, Preseries, Sick!Dean, Sickfic, sick!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-08 23:03:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3226790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wakes up sick so Dean takes care of him until he thinks Bobby should come help him out. Little does Bobby know that he's going to find two sick children home alone instead of only one sick child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean rolled over and woke up with a sigh. Sam was snuggled up next to him in the bed they shared. Dean smiled to himself and gently climbed out of bed. He tugged on his jeans and a sweatshirt before going into the small kitchen of the house they were living in for the moment.   
He started the coffee maker, using it to heat up water for hot chocolate. The snow was piling up outside the front door, and Dean was pretty sure school would be canceled for the day. He turned on the small TV in the living room and flipped channels until he found the news. Sure enough, school had been called off. He went back into the bedroom to change from his jeans into a pair of sweats, and to tell Sam there was no school. After he changed, he went up to the bed. Sam was curled in a ball under the blankets.   
“Sammy,” Dean said quietly, pulling the blankets down from Sam’s head. “It’s a snow day.” Sam cracked his eyes open and looked up at Dean. Dean frowned slightly, noticing how pale Sam was.   
“What?” Sam croaked, surprised at the sound and feeling of his voice.  
“You feelin’ sick?” Dean asked, resting his hand on Sam’s forehead. Sam shrugged. He didn’t feel horrible, but he definitely didn’t feel good. “Don’t lie. What’s wrong?” Dean asked, climbing into bed with Sam. He let Sam curl into him, soaking up his body heat. Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother and wondered what there was for medicine in the med kit that Dad left when he went out a few days earlier.   
“Cold, tired, throat hurts, head hurts.” Sam said, closing his eyes. He felt Dean run his fingers through his hair and sighed, relaxing into Dean more than he already had.   
“I’ll go check the med kit for Tylenol or something. Do you want some breakfast? I made hot chocolate.” Dean asked. Sam nodded, and watched Dean slip out of bed and pad to the kitchen.   
Now that Sam was awake he realized how sick he left. He shivered and curled in on himself, trying to hold in his body heat.   
Dean came back in with a mug of hot chocolate, the thermometer, and some Tylenol he’d found in the med kit.   
“Open up Sammy.” Dean said, pulling the blankets down from his brother’s face. Sam took the thermometer in his mouth and closed his eyes. Dean started carding his fingers through Sam’s hair and Sam sighed.   
Dean took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through his nose. Even though he was 17 he still got nervous when Sam got sick. Especially when Dad was gone for a few weeks. Dad always knew what to do when Sam got real bad. He didn’t necessarily care for Sam the way Dean did, assuming the position of their mother, but Dad always knew what to do.   
The thermometer beeped and Dean pulled it out of Sam’s mouth. Sam whimpered when Dean stopped carding through his hair.   
“Not feeling so hot, huh Sammy?” Dean asked quietly. Sam might try to act tough, but anyone with a 100 degree fever felt pretty crappy.   
“Guess not.” Sam croaked. Dean put his hands under Sam’s arms and lifted him into a sitting position against the headboard. He grabbed the hot chocolate and Tylenol from the nightstand and poured a few pills into Sam’s palm. Once the pills were in Sam’s mouth Dean gave him the mug to wash them down.   
“Want to move to the couch? We can watch a movie.” Dean suggested. Sam nodded and handed the mug back to Dean. Dean stood up, waiting for Sam to follow him. Once Sam was steady on his feet, Dean gathered up the blankets from the bed and a pillow and brought the pile into the living room. Sam walked up behind the couch and stood while Dean laid the blankets out on the couch.   
“I’ll be right back.” Sam whispered, turning to go to the bathroom. Dean watched Sam walk unsteadily towards the bathroom before following behind him, standing outside the door in case Sam needed him. When Dean heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on he stepped away from the door and waited for it to open. It didn’t.   
“Sam?” Dean asked, knocking on the door with his knuckles. There was no answer. Dean pushed the door open. Sam was in a heap on the floor in front of the sink.   
“Sorry Dean. Didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam whispered, struggling to sit up.   
“Are you hurt?” Dean asked, shutting the water off before crouching next to Sam, letting Sam lean on him for stability. Sam shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “What happened?” Dean asked.   
“Just got dizzy so I sat down for a minute.” Sam answered. “And then you came in.”   
“Let’s go back out to the couch, okay?” Dean said. Sam nodded, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean smiled to himself and picked Sam up like he was little again. Sam nuzzled in to Dean’s shoulder and closed his eyes.   
The walk to the couch was short but by the time Dean set Sam down his arms were burning. Sam was pretty heavy for a gangly 14 year old.   
“Lie down and get some sleep.” Dean said. He turned to go put the empty mug in the kitchen. Sam grabbed his arm before he could leave.  
“Will you lie with me? I’m cold.” Sam whispered, tears stinging his eyes.   
“Course I will Sammy. Let me put this away and put in a movie, okay?” Sam nodded. Dean quickly went over to the small stack of VHS tapes they owned and picked Sam’s favorite Star Wars movie. He put it in the VHS player and brought Sam’s mug to the sink. Dean would wash it later. Sam was sitting on the couch, waiting for Dean to come back and sit with him. Dean sat down and Sam snuggled down, lying his head in Dean’s lap. Dean absentmindedly ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, lulling Sam to sleep. 

“De!” Sam yelped, sitting up suddenly. Dean jumped awake.   
“Sammy? You okay?” Dean asked, resting a hand on Sam’s back. He could feel Sam shaking and the heat pouring off of him. Sam turned so he was facing Dean.  
“Yeah, just a bad dream.” Sam whispered, rubbing at his throat with one hand.   
“Do you want some more hot chocolate? There’s still hot water ready.” Dean asked, standing up. He shivered slightly now that Sam’s body heat wasn’t resting on him anymore. Sam nodded and leaned back into the couch. Dean padded into the kitchen and rinsed out the same mug Sam used when he woke up. He filled it with hot water and mixed in the cocoa powder, adding milk to cool it off so Sam could drink it right away.   
“Here Sammy.” Dean said, handing Sam the mug. Sam took it with shaking hands, sipping at it until it wasn’t threatening to slosh over the edges of the mug. “It’s not time for more Tylenol yet. Are you feeling any better?” Dean knew the answer to that question before Sam even said anything. He could tell by the way Sam was holding himself that he felt worse than he did when he woke up. His face was pale, the only color resting on his cheeks from the fever he was running.   
“No.” Sam said, his voice coming out hoarse and painful. Dean palmed Sam’s forehead. If anything, he was warmer than when Dean had last checked his temperature. Dean took a deep breath, pushing away the panic that was trying to set into his stomach.   
Sam took a sip of the hot chocolate and leaned his head back on the back of the couch. He pulled Dean down to sit next to him so he could snuggle into him. Sam wasn’t really a snuggler, and neither was Dean, but it was an unspoken rule that when either one of them were sick, they snuggled. Usually it wasn’t so obvious because Dad was around. Then it was more at night, when Dad wasn’t watching. He wouldn’t appreciate his soldiers snuggling.   
“Sammy, don’t spill your cocoa.” Dean said, taking the mug from his brother’s hand. Sam’s eyes had started to slip shut and his hand was growing slack. Sam opened his eyes.   
“Sorry.” he whispered. Dean smiled gently at him.   
“Just go to sleep.” Dean said, placing the mug on the floor next to the couch. He pulled Sam into his side and wrapped the blankets around Sam’s shoulders. 

“Sammy, wake up.” Dean said, shaking Sam’s arm. Sam’s eyes peeled themselves open and blurrily focused on Dean. “It’s time to take your temp again and put some more meds into you.” Sam felt the thermometer being put in his mouth, and then Dean was gone. Sam picked up his head to see where Dean went, but was hit by a wave of dizziness that forced him to lean back into the couch.   
“I’m just getting you a drink Sam, relax.” Dean said from the kitchen. Sam sighed and closed his eyes. The only thing he wanted to do was sleep. Why did Dean have to keep waking him up?   
The beeping of the thermometer made Sam’s head pound. He felt a few tears slip down his cheeks but was too exhausted to feel embarrassed about them.   
“Sammy, don’t cry. You’re alright.” Dean said once he was back at Sam’s side. He wiped Sams’ tears away and winced when he felt how hot his brother was. Dean pulled the thermometer out of Sam’s mouth. His fever was getting worse. The panic was settling back in his stomach. What should he do? How high could a fever get before causing brain damage?  
“I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to grab the phone.” Dean said. He left the glass of water with Sam and went into the kitchen. He picked the cell phone up off the counter and dialed Bobby’s number. He picked up on the third ring.   
“John? That you?” Bobby barked. Dean sighed in relief.   
“No, Uncle Bobby, it’s Dean. I think Sam’s in trouble.” Dean rushed out.   
“What’s wrong with him?” Bobby asked. He knew that Sam had to be pretty bad if Dean was calling him for help.   
“His fever is really high. 103.4”   
“Jesus. Where’s your dad?”  
“On a shifter case. He’ll be gone for at least a week. He just left yesterday.”   
“Where are you? I’ll come if you’re close enough to me”   
“Just outside of Hastings, Nebraska.”  
“That’s about a four hour drive.” Bobby said, thinking. “I’ll head out as soon as I pack a bag. Can you cool him down until I get there?”   
“I think so. Stick him in the tub with lukewarm water.”   
“Right. If it gets over 104 you’re gonna have to call an ambulance.”   
“All right. I’ll see you in four hours.” Dean said.   
“See you.” Bobby said, hanging up. Dean sighed and leaned against the fridge. His head started pounding from out of nowhere and he wanted to lie down and sleep.   
“De,” Sam called from the living room. He had knocked over the glass of water and it was slowly running down his shirt, making him shiver worse than before.   
“What’s wrong Sammy?” Dean asked, putting the phone back on the counter. He walked in and saw Sam’s soaked shirt. He grabbed a towel from the kitchen and brought it back to Sam. “Sit up for a minute.” Dean told Sam, pulling his shirt off when Sam was up off the couch enough to get the shirt off his back.   
“C-cold.” Sam shivered. Dean wiped the water off his chest and pulled the blankets up over Sam’s body.   
“It’s time for medicine buddy.” Dean said, handing Sam a few Tylenols. Sam took them with what was left of the water in the glass and then handed it back to Dean. Dean put it on the floor and situated himself back on the couch with Sam’s head in his lap.   
“Bobby’s coming to stay with us until you feel better.” Dean whispered, running his fingers through Sam’s hair.   
“Is my temp high?” Sam croaked. Dean smiled weakly at him.   
“Not too high. Just getting uncomfortable to deal with on my own. I don’t want to mess up and hurt you. So Bobby’s coming to help.” Dean explained. Sam nodded and closed his eyes.   
“Sorry if I’m scaring you.” Sam whispered. Dean smirked.   
“I’m not scared of a little fever. Go to sleep.” 

“Sam.” Dean said, trying to make his brother wake up enough so Dean could crawl out from under him. The kid was on fire and Dean was sweating bullets, not to mention the way his stomach was rolling enough to make anyone standing close by seasick. “Sammy sit up.”   
“G’away De.” Sam mumbled.   
“No, Sam, really, sit up.” Dean repeated. Sam heard the urgency in Dean’s voice and forced his body to move. He felt Dean disappear from under him and heard the bathroom door slam shut. Sam reached down to the floor, feeling around for some tissues. He found one, blew his nose, and settled back on the couch waiting for Dean to come back. His head felt clearer than the last time Dean had woken him up, but his body hurt everywhere.   
Sam heard the bathroom door open and footsteps walk into the kitchen. Dean filled a glass with water and brought it to Sam.   
“Drink this Sam. All of it. You’re getting dehydrated.” Dean said. His voice sounded raw. Sam took the glass and drank it, realizing how thirsty he felt. Once he’d drained it Dean filled it up again and brought it back to Sam. Dean rubbed his head and sat down on the floor, leaning back on the armrest of the couch. He felt miserable, but still had to take care of Sam. He glanced at his watch. Bobby should be getting close, but the roads were probably still covered in snow. He jumped when Sam’s hand came down on his forehead.   
“What the hell?” Dean yelled, swiveling around to face Sam.   
“You’re pretty warm and you look like crap.” Sam croaked. Dean sighed and turned back around to melt into the couch.   
“I’m fine. How are you holding up? You look like you’re fever’s gone down some.” Dean said, taking the thermometer out of it’s plastic case. He handed it to Sam.  
“Only if you do yours next.” Sam argued.   
“Whatever. I’m fine anyway.” Dean said. Sam put the thermometer in his mouth and waited for it to beep.   
“101.7.” Sam told Dean, handing him the thermometer as evidence. Dean handed him a few Tylenol pills.   
“It’s been about four hours.” Dean said. He wiped the thermometer on his shirt before sticking it in his mouth.   
“Does that mean Bobby will be here soon?” Sam asked, coughing into his elbow. Dean nodded. Sam could tell he felt miserable. His face had paled and he was sweating. Sam’s brow knit together in confusion. If Dean was sick too, why hadn’t Sam thrown up yet? They probably would have had the same thing, right?   
“100.8.” Dean stated, pulling the beeping instrument out of his mouth. He wiped it on his shirt again before putting it back in its case.   
“Drink some water.” Sam whispered, his eyelids wanting to close on him.   
“I’ll just throw up again if I do that.” Dean whispered back, shivering. He got up and went into the bedroom, grabbing a blanket and a pillow. He brought them back to the couch and curled up on the floor below Sam. 

“Dean! Dean open up!” Bobby yelled. He was standing on the front deck of the small rundown house John had rented for the time being. Snow was piled up knee deep and the cold was seeping into Bobby’s toes. He knocked on the door again, hard enough to make the wall shake. The door creaked open and Dean looked out. Bobby was surprised Dean looked so awful. He didn’t say anything about himself being sick while he was on the phone, but that was a move Dean would make.   
“Don’t just stand there you idjit. Let me in.” Bobby snapped, wanting to fully assess the boys. Dean stepped aside and Bobby went in. Sam was curled up on the couch and Bobby could see where Dean had been sleeping when he’d knocked on the door.   
Bobby dropped his bag in the corner and went over to Sam. He rested a hand on Sam’s forehead. He was hot, but not alarmingly so. Bobby looked up when he heard the bathroom door slam. Dean had disappeared and Bobby could hear him gagging and coughing.   
“Hi Bobby.” Sam whispered, opening his eyes. Bobby noticed how hazy his eyes looked.   
“Hey kid. How’re ya feeling?” Bobby asked, looking around for the thermometer.   
“Better than earlier. Dean is sick though.” Sam whispered. Bobby nodded, slipping the thermometer into Sam’s mouth.   
Dean emerged from the bathroom, closing the door behind him.   
“Come lie down. You look like death warmed over.” Bobby told him, moving out of his way. Dean curled up in his blanket and closed his eyes. Bobby rested a hand on his forehead while he waited for the thermometer to beep.  
“Not feelin’ so hot Bobby.” Dean whispered. Bobby ran his fingers through Dean’s hair.   
“I know you ain’t kiddo.” Bobby whispered back. “I know you ain’t.”  
The thermometer beeped and Bobby took it out of Sam’s mouth.   
“What it is?” Sam croaked. He coughed and Bobby winced.   
“Down to 100 even. Not too bad.” Bobby said. He wiped the thermometer on his jeans and stuck it in Dean’s mouth.   
“Bobby?” Sam asked. Bobby turned his attention towards the younger boy. “Can I have some water?”   
“Sure you can.” Bobby said. He stood up and filled the glass Sam gave him. He heard the thermometer beep from the kitchen, and checked Dean’s temperature after he gave Sam his water.   
“102.4. Think you can stomach some meds?” Bobby asked. Dean shrugged.  
“Might as well try, I guess.” Dean said. Bobby handed him a few pills and some water.  
“Want to move somewhere more comfortable?” Bobby asked. Dean shook his head.   
“I’ll stay here with Sammy.” Dean answered. Bobby smiled down at him and ruffled his hair.


	2. Chapter 2

“Dean, wake up.” Bobby said, shaking Dean’s shoulder. He had just moved Sam into their bedroom, and was trying to get Dean up off the cold floor.   
“What?” Dean asked, sitting up quickly, his eyes scanning the room for danger.   
“Relax kid, it’s just me. Let’s get you into bed.” Bobby said. Dean nodded and grabbed his blanket and pillow. Bobby pulled him up and steadied him once he was on his feet. Dean’s face drained of all color when he stood up.   
“You okay?” Bobby asked, ready to drag Dean to the bathroom. Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. He focused on his rolling stomach, and willed it to quiet down. After he was sure he wasn’t going to spew everywhere, he opened his eyes and nodded at Bobby. They made their way to the bedroom. Sam was already curled up on his side of the bed, snoring lightly. Dean sat at the edge of the bed, tossing his pillow up where his head would go. Bobby disappeared out into the kitchen and brought back a bucket, placing it on the floor by Dean’s head.   
“Think you can handle more meds? It’s time for some, and your fever isn’t getting any better.” Bobby said, feeling Dean’s forehead with the back of his hand.   
“I’m not sure.” Dean said, rubbing his arms to get rid of the goosebumps.   
“Well, get under the blanket and I’ll be back with the Tylenol.” Bobby said. He went out to the living room and grabbed the pill bottle and the Pepto that was with it. He filled a glass with water and brought it back to Dean.   
“Here, take these.” Bobby poured a few pills into Dean’s hand. Dean put them in his mouth and gagged at the bitter taste of the pills. Bobby handed him the water and he swallowed them quickly. He leaned his head against the wall, waiting for his stomach to stop gurgling. Bobby sat on the edge of the bed next to him, bucket in his lap. Dean took a deep breath as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He closed his eyes, and felt Bobby raise the bucket under his chin. He spit some bile into the bucket, and blew out the breath he’d been holding.   
“You’re okay. Just breathe through it.” Bobby whispered, rubbing Dean’s forehead with his thumb.   
“I-I can’t,” Dean said, his eyes opening in panic. He gagged and emptied the rest of his stomach into the bucket. Sam stirred, rolling over to face Dean and Bobby.  
“You okay De?” Sam asked quietly. Dean spit into the bucket and wiped his nose.   
“Yeah. Go back to sleep Sammy.” he said. Bobby pulled the bucket away from Dean’s face.   
“You good while I go empty this?” Bobby asked. Dean nodded and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. He shivered and slid down the wall until he was lying on the bed, head resting on his pillow. He curled up under the blanket, wincing when his stomach cramped painfully. Bobby came back into the room with the bucket and a glass of water. Dean watched as he set the water on the nightstand and put the bucket on the floor.   
“I’ll be on the couch. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Bobby said, feeling Dean’s forehead again. He was getting worse. Dean nodded under his touch and closed his eyes again. Sam, who had fallen asleep momentarily after Dean told him to, mumbled under his breath and rolled over to snuggle into Dean’s back. Bobby smiled at him, and then reached over to feel his forehead. He felt warm too, warmer than the last time Bobby checked temperatures. He sighed and went out to the living room. It was going to be a long night. 

Dean sat up covering his mouth with one hand, searching frantically for the bucket with the other. He pulled it up under his head and threw up. He felt Sam sit up beside him, and then felt a hand rubbing circles on his back.   
“Want me to go get Bobby?” Sam whispered when Dean finished vomiting. Dean shook his head and swung his feet off the side of the bed and put them on the freezing cold floor. He stood up and brought the bucket to the bathroom with him. Bobby was snoring quietly from the couch, one hand draped over his stomach, the other touching the floor. Dean emptied the bucket and went back to the bedroom. He was so focused on going back to bed he didn’t notice that Bobby was sitting up, watching him with concern. Bobby followed the older boy back to the bedroom and turned on the light. Sam’s cheeks were pink and there was a thin layer of sweat coating his skin. Dean was sweating too, but his face was as white as a sheet.   
“Time for more meds.” Bobby said quietly. Sam scooched up so he was almost in a sitting position. Bobby put the thermometer in Sam’s mouth. Sure enough, his fever was climbing back up towards 102. Bobby gave Sam some Tylenol and water.  
“Ready for the thermometer?” Bobby asked. Dean had gone from pale to green. He nodded weakly and opened his mouth slightly. Bobby put the thermometer under his tongue and poured a dose of Pepto into the lid of the bottle. Dean’s fever was higher too, and he was getting dehydrated. Bobby handed Dean the Pepto and then some Tylenol.   
“I’ll just throw it up again.” Dean whimpered.   
“You need to get your fever down. The Pepto will help, too.” Bobby answered. Dean sighed and took the pills with a grimace. “You only feel sick to your stomach?”   
“My throat hurts, nose is getting stuffed up.” Dean said, closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep.   
“Am I gonna throw up?” Sam asked quietly, his voice coming out as a squeak.   
“I hope not Sammy.” Dean said, resting a hand on Sam’s head. He mindlessly carded his fingers through Sam’s hair.   
“Do you feel nauseous?” Bobby asked. Sam shook his head. “I think you’ll be okay.” Sam seemed content with that answer and curled into Dean again, closing his eyes. Dean pulled his blanket up over him and closed his eyes. Bobby smiled at the boys and turned out the light before going back to the couch. 

“Morning.” Bobby said once Sam and Dean stumbled into the living room. They were both pale and both wrapped up in blankets. They shuffled to the couch and collapsed into a blanket heap. “Anyone want breakfast?” Bobby asked.   
“Toast please.” Dean said weakly. Bobby could hear the congestion in his voice.   
“Sam?” Bobby asked. Sam thought for a moment.   
“Just toast.” Sam said.   
“Coming right up.” Bobby said. Dean sighed as he leaned back into the couch. Sam looked up at him.  
“You feeling better?”  
“No. Are you?” Dean asked. Sam shook his head. Dean gave Sam a little smile.   
“Here you go.” Bobby said, handing the boys their toast.   
“Thanks Uncle Bobby.” Sam said.   
“Yeah, thanks Bobby.” Dean said, smiling up at the older man.   
“Anytime.” Bobby answered.


End file.
